Untold Stories
by silver-kin
Summary: Every story has more than one side. There are a million you don't know of, a million versions you have not heard. I will tell you one story, a short brief memory. Will you hear it? LuxordXigbar. Romance-ish. Happy 20 day!


I'm not really sure how this turned out. It was written very late and was only finished thanks to my sister's continuous urging. Thank you, na!

Happy 20 day!

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square Enix and Disney.

**Untold Stories**

If you have been following the story, you would know what happens in the end. The evil is defeated, the threat looming over millions of worlds vanquished. Darkness is pushed back once more. Light shines across the universe, reclaiming what it had earlier lost.

The Nobodies lose the battle. The Keyblade Masters stand as victors, saviours of the world.

Our heroes return to their homeland and old friends are reunited. Laughter is passed all around and the air is thick with mirth; at last, tired bones can relax in the safety of their familiar surroundings. Waves roll onto the beach in a placid manner, calm and gentle. Everything is right.

Thousands of miles away, past many other celebrating homes, there is one world that is different; no festive activities are being held, no joyous celebrations. Bit by bit pieces of this world breaks away and fades back into non-existence, the process of decaying addressing the entire black city and its lone, broken castle; this world is dying. There is nothing left to give it meaning, nothing left to root it to reality. Soon, this place will cease to be.

Let us stop here for a while. Perhaps, by our being here we can lend some time to this world and delay its inevitable doom. You see, there is a story I'd like to tell you.

Come, walk with me.

You may have noticed that the world is indeed responding to our presence. Look. The buildings have stopped decomposing. Time has frozen itself to allow us a few seconds to roam what is left of this place. Interesting what one heart can do to a heartless world, isn't it? And here we have two.

Shall we enter the castle? I believe the entrance is still intact. A good portion of the castle should still be standing as well.

Now, I am afraid I'll have to ask you to close your eyes. Just for a moment. I want you to block out what your vision is telling you about this place. Forget the images you have already seen, the ones rising like ghosts from your memory.

Listen. Only use your ears.

What do you hear?

Please, do not turn that accusing look onto me. This is no work of mine. No magicks have I casted on any part of this world.

Then what are you hearing, you ask? Well, the answer is very simple. Can you guess it? No? Very well, I shall tell you.

What you are hearing are the voices of the past, the whispers of those who had lived their lives here, no matter how short. The more diminished hums come from those weaker in spirit, having been unable to retain their human forms. The louder, more audible words come from those who had managed to succeed.

What you're hearing, my honoured guest, are the murmurs of the dead.

You see, there are many stories in the world, their numbers far greater than the world's inhabitants. Moreover, if that number isn't big enough, every story has more than one side to it: two, three, five different perspectives. Everyone has their own opinion, their own views. Combine that with the stories originating from all the other scattered worlds out there and you will have enough to last you until Death comes ringing on your doorbell.

There are many stories yet to be told. You have heard one. Here I stand, offering you perhaps another. Will you hear it?

If your answer is yes, then follow me and we shall venture deeper into this castle, where more rooms lie unknown and unheard of. If not, tell me now and I will take you back to your home. Which will it be?

…I see. You have chosen to stay. I am glad.

Well, we mustn't squander what little time we have. Let us continue.

These paths you may be familiar with as they were very well painted in the story we have both been told. However, do you see that secluded door on the other side? If we walk here, and open this latent path and enter through here—

—we are in an entirely unfamiliar place.

Look at all those winding stairs and doors. I myself am not sure of where all these routes and stairs will take us but our destination lies ahead, down this tranquil corridor.

As we walk, spare a moment to glance to your left and right, into the many rooms we pass. You will notice perhaps, a great number of things you had no knowledge of before.

There is a dining table here, a grand, magnificent thing fit for buffets set before kings. A few cupboards decorate the room around it, and there stands a refrigerator in one corner. The lights are antiques, rescued from a dying world a long time ago, though some might argue that they had been stolen. This was the initial meeting room, where informal discussions where held over snacks and meals; this was before the official meeting room was put together.

On your right, there is the great Library, keeper of many lost books and even journals written here in this very castle. If we enter, we could spend hours amongst the tall wooden shelves, peeking at the spines of books arranged next to each other. Somewhere near the center of the room, there is a small arrangement of chairs and tables: a comfortable haven to retreat to with a book when things got too hectic.

If we turn left here, we will come across a number of rooms. Some were occupied while the others were left empty.

We turn right and more rooms pass us both by.

There is a large room containing multi-coloured sofas and two glass tables, resembling the standard living room.

Over there sits a laboratory fitted with all kinds of scientific equipment a scientist could ever want. Glass beakers and test tubes and tall intimidating burettes; papers are spread out all over the worktable. Pieces of broken glass lie on the floor, having at first been ignored due to stubborn denial only to end up being forgotten.

A secluded path lies between two walls. This path leads to a balcony, situated high in the air overlooking a small treasured forest of greenery. A flower or two blooms without help from the sun and water sits undisturbed at the very heart of life there.

There is a certain staircase that, if taken, will lead to a tower where one astronomical telescope stands, waiting with eternal patience for the return of its owners.

If you look with a keen eye, you will find many secret openings in walls that take any adventurous explorer on a terrific journey all over the castle.

In a storeroom, there is a closet packed with damaged figures that had been used as target practice by some.

A modest collection of gardening tools pushed under the bed.

A small, locked chest filled with fragile seashells.

A book of handwritten songs that had not belonged to a musician.

A broken vase surrounded by chrysanthemums.

A dusty rifle hidden with a box of matches.

Torn up letters addressed to no one.

Tear-stained pictures of clouds.

An engagement ring.

There are so many stories I want to share, so many memories I want to preserve for those deceased, even if I have no part in them. Nevertheless, time is not permitting. I cannot tell you all that I know but please, allow me to share one at the very least.

The story I have in mind takes place here, in this room. There are tables, four chairs, a sofa and a cupboard crammed with bottles of alcohol, taken from many worlds as well as the private stash of certain unknowing victims.

Two visitors often frequented this place and until late they stayed, seeking refugee from all the troubles brewing in the world outside. This is where they stopped to talk, to rest after a tiring day spent chasing dragons or carrying out game plans.

I could say that this is a tale of a sniper and a gambler, but that would not be true. Not really.

This is a brief moment of the untold story of two friends.

--

"That's it, you bastard! I refuse to play if you're going to cheat!"

"Believe me, Xigbar. I may be a criminal but my games are always fair."

The man snorted, an impolite sound of disbelief, as he made no effort to hide his incredulity. "Which is why you win every single round?"

His companion smiled, unashamed of his continuous victories. "Can I help it if Lady Luck adores me so?"

Xigbar chucked the first card he grabbed in the other's direction, sending it slicing through the air with all the danger of an incoming knife only to be caught by deft fingers, snatching it out of its mission with the kind of calm expertise gifted only to those intimate with its nature.

Luxord smiled at his friend, blue eyes bright. Xigbar growled and extended his right hand in demand. "Hand me the beer."

"Its rum, you know," the blonde said, passing the bottle in question to waiting fingers.

His friend waved his other hand, dismissing the reminder as he lifted the drink to his lips. "Beer, rum, same thing." Xigbar took a few greedy gulps before placing it on the table. "I'm serious, though. I'm not playing cards with you anymore."

"Never again?" he asked, doubt seeping into the words.

"No, just for the rest of tonight. And maybe tomorrow."

"You're being a sore loser," Luxord accused before snapping his fingers. The cards on the table jerked to attention, flying to each other to form a neat stack before bending to disappear into thin air. "Alright then. What do you propose we do now?"

A sly glint creeped into Xigbar's visible yellow eye and he leaned forward. "I know what we can do."

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Let's arm wrestle!"

To which Luxord responded by bursting into laughter, back hunched, and shoulders shaking as he continued to laugh at the very idea of it.

That is, until he realised that Xigbar was being serious.

"You're kidding."

"Nope," he answered, already in the process of rolling up his sleeves. He placed a thin – but strengthened with muscle – elbow on the table, fingers open and ready for a fight. "Come on."

Holding back the sudden flood of protests in his mouth, Luxord followed suit and clasped the offered hand. There was a short pause before he allowed himself one complaint. "You do realise that there is the enormously unfair advantage of you having undergone military training of sorts, right?"

"Yup."

"And as a result, I am more than likely to lose?"

"Yup," he repeated, lips curving into an eager smile. "Ready?" he asked next, and counted three seconds.

There was a brief struggle before the darker hand pinned the other to the table. Luxord almost flinched; pain stung his knuckles where they had collided with the table. Across of him, Xigbar's face was wearing an unabashed smile of utter glee, not the least bit sorry.

"Again," he said and the pleasure in his voice was beyond mistaking.

The second and third rounds produced similar results. Luxord managed to grab a win during the fourth and sixth round but all other wins went to his opponent. By the end of the ninth round, Luxord was glaring openly at his companion and Xigbar only grinned back.

As they started the tenth match, Luxord felt his eyelids droop a bit as he reached inside of him with his mind. Xigbar counted down from three again and both hands attempted to force the other down, shaking with the amount of energy being exerted into the act.

Just as Xigbar was only a quarter away from his tenth win, he saw gold mist brush past his arm, thick and sticky. It rose up to surround him even as it began to crawl up his elbow. Suddenly, the world blurred out of focus and he felt light-headed, as if he was drifting in air, unaffected by gravity. He was floating in a vast blue sky, lighter than a feather.

Next thing he knew, his hand was being slammed into the surface of the table, bones crashing into solid wood. The impact had him snatching his hand back, vision still hazy. The world began to spin, colours mixing into each other and he closed his eyes with haste, trying to clear his head. Somehow, he managed to concentrate enough to from words with his mouth. "You cheated."

"Yes, I did," came the easy affirmative, some distance ahead of him. Xigbar felt cool fingers against his forehead and the touch sent a soothing sensation into him, spreading throughout his body. The nausea faded little by little and when he opened his eyes again, the world had ceased its spinning.

Opposite of him, he saw Luxord retake his seat. "How come?" he asked.

In response, the blonde smiled a little, the expression hinting at an apology. "Because I'm a sore loser too," he admitted with a measure of reluctance.

Xigbar scowled, hand still burning. "I don't like you faeries."

Luxord responded by affecting affrontment, eyebrows slipping into a dejected expression. "Are you saying that you don't like me?"

The sniper's frown deepened and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, fixing his friend with a severe glare.

Noticing the foul mood, Luxord leant forward and attempted to console him. "Don't give me that look. I didn't mean anything." No response. "I know how to cheer you up. How about I buy you a drink?"

"I already have one."

"Hmm, I guess you're right about that." More silence followed, accompanying the frosty scowl. Finally, Luxord said, "Okay. I'm sorry I cheated. I swear I'll never do that to you again." He reached over the table towards Xigbar, hand open, palm against the table. "Forgive me?"

For a moment, Xigbar said nothing. Then, he accepted the apology with a dramatic faux sigh. "I guess so. Since you promised and all." He took the other's fingers in his own, holding them in a lose grip, meeting blue eyes. "But, feel free to cheat the others out of their money, alright?"

At that, Luxord's face relaxed into a relieved grin. "And I suppose you expect me to share my winnings too?"

"Of course. 50-50," the sniper answered, earning a chuckle from the blonde. Luxord's fingers moved, gently caressing his.

"Well, we've played hours of poker, and then hearts, as well as held an arm-wrestling match. What shall we do next?"

Xigbar shrugged. Using his left hand to take hold of the alcoholic drink discarded earlier, he took a few more gulps before extending it to the other man. "Sit around and drink, I guess. And talk," he said as his friend took the proffered drink.

Taking a sip, he felt cool liquid run down his throat. "Okay. About what?"

"I don't know," Xigbar replied, but he stood up, not letting go of his hold on Luxord's hand. The blonde stood up too, alcohol in his free hand and the sniper pulled them both in the direction of the nearby couch. The air around it twisted as Xigbar moved the small table positioned in front of the sofa to one side, making space on the floor. He sat down with his back to the greyish furniture and motioned for Luxord to do the same.

Soon, they were sitting with their shoulders touching, legs stretched out in front of them. The blonde pulled their intertwined fingers into his lap and took another swig of rum.

"It's raining," he observed.

Xigbar turned to look at the window and realised that it was; the open window allowed the soft pattering of water droplets to creep in, cooling the air. He closed his eyes and strained to hear beyond the rain. After a while, his ears caught snatches of a conversation – or to be more specific, a fair amount of yelling and some profuse apologies.

He laughed to himself, identifying the owners of the voices. "I think Demyx made it rain by accident again," he informed Luxord.

"Oh?" the blonde said, a small smile tilting his own lips. "Who's getting drenched this time?"

"By the sound of it, I'm guessing it's Xaldin."

"Poor man."

"…It's kind of nice, though."

"What?"

"The rain."

A comfortable silence enveloped them both as they listened to the quiet rain outside. It sounded like a light drizzle, a common sight in the city these days. An occasional wind breezed in every now and then, blowing the curtains into a small dance by the windows as it passed through.

"This isn't going to last," Xigbar suddenly said, his words so soft that Luxord almost missed it.

The sentence snapped him out of his thoughts. "What isn't?" he asked.

"Everything," the sniper replied, gesturing around the room with his left hand.

"Well," the blonde said, "nothing ever does."

Sighing, Xigbar nodded. "I know, but still, it feels weird to think that one day all of this will be gone. Someday, this room won't be here anymore, along with that table, and that cupboard, and _that_ table, and those chairs…"

"All good things come to an end," Luxord offered, echoing the words he had heard someone else say to him. "You can't expect this room to always be here. Or anything else for that matter."

"Hmm…" Xigbar let the word trail off, letting it simmer into the air like dust. He shifted his weight so that he was leaning against his friend, neck against his chest as he listened to the other man's breathing. "Luxord?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Luxord ran his fingers through black hair, playing with the strands that had come loose from the dark green hair band. "Anything."

Xigbar closed his one good eye and inhaled, breathing in the blonde's familiar scent and held it in for as long as possible, committing it to memory. _Will you always be here for me?_ he wanted to say, feeling the shape of the words with his tongue; every curve, every sharp edge grinding against his teeth to poke his cheeks. They took form behind his eyelids, vivid, clear images in his mind's theatre. It sent a chilling feeling into his mind, making him shiver.

Instead he asked, "What was your first impression of me?"

"Well," the blonde said, voice taking the tone he usually used when telling stories as his fingers continued toying with the black and grey strands. "When I walked into the castle and saw you, I thought—"

--

!

I'm sorry. That sudden earthquake took me by surprise. It seems the world has begun dying again. See, the walls are fading away in swirls of grey and the roof is falling apart; I fear time has resumed it's work. We must leave this place immediately, else we'll be swallowed by the same thing that is devouring this world.

Do not panic. There is still time enough to get you out of harm's way, back to your home. Come, take my hand and close your eyes. Think of your home, the surroundings you had left earlier in order to follow me here. Picture them in your mind and keep them there. Think of nothing else but those images.

Take deep breaths and stay calm. Count down from five.

Four, three, two, one…

And you're home.

Yes, it really is your house. Believe me. You are safe.

I must thank you for your time; for being so kind as to listen to my story with such rapt attention, never once asking questions after the tale had been started. It brings great joy to me to know that the memoir has been repeated to such a good listener.

Before I take my leave, I have one more favour to ask of you. Will you hear it?

If possible, I want you to remember everything that I have told you today. Even though it was short and perhaps, without much meaning to you, remember that that moment had meant a great deal to those two people. They had lived once upon a time, just like you are living now. You may have lead different lives, but the fact that they were alive cannot be denied.

I am not asking much, simply that you remember them and their companions because, Nobody or not, they were still people.

Just like us.

**Fin**

Thank you for your time! We hope you enjoyed the story.


End file.
